He Made You Cry
by BellesYellowRose
Summary: Molly Hooper can feel the tension of the last few months building up. What with killing the world's only Consulting Detective, hiding him, and lying to everyone she knows Molly is not sure how much more she can take. Then after a horrible day at the morgue she breaks down. Can Sherlock piece her back together? A One shot.


**Hey everyone! I am really nervous about this piece because it is the first Sherlock fanfic I have ever written. This is was difficult because I wanted to make it my own but trying to write Sherlock in character and for him to SOUND like himself was very difficult. Hope you enjoy!**

**P.S. None of these Characters are mine.**

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Molly glared at her new boss, Jonathan McRoss had just ordered her to perform the autopsy on the John Doe who had been wheeled in to the morgue. Molly had come in at six this morning because he had insisted she finish up all her paperwork before eight. With pulling in a lot of overtime these past few weeks Molly was exhausted. The only way she had been able to get through the day was the idea of going home, grabbing some food, her fuzzy pajamas, and a good book. Of course, she realized this would probably only be accomplished if a certain detective had decided not to try one of his experiments in her kitchen again.

The last time her flat had smelled like dead fish for three days and she had to escape to St. Barts to keep from getting sick. Not that it mattered now, Molly fumed as she stomped around the lab. Who knew how long it would take to finish up, and with an early staff meeting tomorrow she felt herself becoming more and more physically worn out. It had been a stressful couple of months. What with killing the world's only consulting detective, then hiding him, and lying to all the people who mattered most to her… A guilty feeling swooped through as she recalled seeing John at lunch yesterday, he had lost weight and his limp had become pronounced again. She knew it would only take three words to ease his grief but she couldn't do it. It was too risky, not just for John but for Sherlock too.

This was the source of her worry, Molly admitted to herself. She was terrified someone would figure out Sherlock was still alive. She would lay awake at night just listening for sounds of someone sneaking into the flat. The days Sherlock would be gone for days on end doing his best to bring an end to the rest of Moriarty network, she could barely breathe. Her mind racing with all the horrible scenarios of what could happen to him. She knew everything he was doing was necessary but it did not ease her mind. Molly could barely eat she was so consumed with the idea of someone catching on to their scheme. She did her best to hide it from Sherlock, knowing he would find it insulting-

"Doctor Hooper?" The stern voice interrupting her thoughts Molly looked up to see McRoss standing in front of her again, "Have you started Mr. Doe's autopsy yet?"

"No sir I was-"

"I have no interest in hearing your excuses, Doctor." Molly inwardly sighed, Jonathan had been prowling around like a bear since he first joined the hospital replacing Mike. A good-looking man in his mid-forties, he reminded Molly of an old sea captain rather than a Doctor. He was tall and very fit, his brown hair salted at the ends, with a sun weathered face. Plus an attitude to match, refusing to handle any labor he thought below his station. Which meant he barked orders at her and then sat in his office demanding everything from minuscule paperwork to coffee. "Quit gawking at me, and get to work," He demanded harshly.

Molly narrowed her eyes, "Excuse me, Doctor McRoss but I have been the head pathologist at St. Barts for the past four years, and I understand you are my superior but I feel like I should be given some respect and would appreciate not being spoken to in this way," Molly was shocked she actually had the nerve to speak up, she never had been good at confrontation but she was almost too exhausted to be nervous.

Doctor McRoss face turned a violent shade of purple, he stepped closer to Molly, "Listen here girlie, I don't care anything about you. I know why you were the head pathologist for all these years."

Molly stared at him confused, "What do you mean?"

"Look, I know all about you and the little romance you had going with that dead con-man Sherlock Holmes. The one who had the ability to sneak his way around rules and laws. Well, Mike might have been able to look the other way while you spread your legs so he could have free run of the morgue and Sherlock helped you keep your "top" spot by making the hospital aware you helped in his so called cases but he's gone. Now get back to work or I will do what should have been done months ago and suspend you. In fact I may do that still…" He gave her a smug grin before turning and storming away.

Molly gasped as tears ran freely down her face, she had never felt so humiliated. It was not so much what Dr. McRoss had said but the way he said it. His tone was cruel and jesting, the utter lack of respect for Sherlock and his demise. The fact he wasn't really dead was moot. Plus, he couldn't have been further from the truth, Sherlock had never thought of her romantically. Molly pulled herself together long enough to perform the autopsy. She all but threw the report on McRoss desk with a note saying she would not be in tomorrow taking one of her accumulated sick days.

As she walked out of St. Barts it was raining hard. It was a cold spring in London and the rain made it feel positively frigid. Molly groaned checking her watch, it was almost nine and she knew trying to catch a cab in this weather would be pointless. She had promised Sherlock she would not take the tube at night when there was not as many people around. He was afraid someone might be watching her. Sherlock had told her to call Mycroft if she ever needed to and he would send a car to pick her up but Molly didn't feel up to it tonight. All the sudden she just felt numb, tears streaming down her face, the rain soaking through her thin clothes, Molly turned and started walking. She knew it was dangerous and Molly didn't know if it was exhaustion or the emotional overload of the last few weeks but she didn't care.

As she walked her mind seemed to be on replay everything that had happened flashing itself through her brain. One scene after another. Sherlock coming to her in the lab telling her he needed her, that she counted, flinging himself off the roof and making sure she got the different body and his transported away before anyone saw, especially John. Faking his death certificate and then sneaking him into her flat. The days after terrified one of the snipers had seen something and would kill John, Greg, or Mrs. Hudson. Molly had never told Sherlock how scared she was all the time. Not for herself but for the only family she had left, the horrible guilt she felt for lying to them all.

She shivered, not from the cold but from the sob she could feel spilling out of her body. She felt so ashamed of herself. Oh, not from what she had done, she would do it all over again and more if it meant keeping Sherlock safe but she hated how it was affecting her, the way she was letting it tear her apart. Molly knew it was ten times worse for Sherlock, having to pretend to be dead from his best friend. Having the papers trash his name, calling him a fake, trying desperately to end Moriarty network so he could go home to 221B. She was determined not make it worse for him.

Molly wasn't even aware of making it to her building, the next thing she knew she was standing in front of her door. She couldn't move to open it, she didn't know how long she had been standing there before it was thrown open and she was yanked in by her wrist.

"I am aware Molly, while your door is obvious need of repair however I believe staring at it for ten minutes might be a bit excessive-"Sherlock trailed off as he finally noticed her, she was shaking from head to toe, her clothes was clinging to her small frame. Hmm it looks like she's lost five pounds not three he noted. Her ribs were slightly protruding, but it was her eyes that he noticed she was staring at him but they were vacant as though she was lost in her own mind.

"Molly," Sherlock asked concerned, he grabbed her shoulders noting how cold her skin was, "Molly, what happened?" He demanded. Sherlock scanned her quickly, she had obviously walked home from the hospital judging by how wet her clothes were and her hair plastered to her face. He kept his anger down at her stupidity, St. Barts was at least twenty minutes from her flat. The fact she had made it home without being accosted was nothing short of miracle.

Sherlock was surprised at the swoop of protectiveness that ran through him, "Molly!" He demanded shaking her a little her unresponsiveness scaring him more than it should. She finally glanced up at him seeming to notice him for the first time, "Sherlock?" She whispered confused before she practically fainted in his arms. He scooped her up heading to the bathroom forcing himself back into his mechanical mode.

Sherlock eased her onto the side of the tub, grabbing her sweater pulling it off. Trying not to stare at her breasts clad in a purple bra her cold flesh peeping through, startled to feel his body react to the woman before him. He had not had this sort of response since he become clean ten years ago. As he reached down unbuttoning her jeans she finally seemed to come back to life, she started back grabbing his hands.

"Molly," He said softly, "You will catch pneumonia if we don't get you warmed up."

She shook her head frantically trying to stand up, "It'ssss finnnne, Sherlock," She said trying to smile through her chattering teeth, "Don'ttt worry about me." As Molly tried to walk by he sighed heavily before grabbing her around the waist, "Molly, you have already tested my patience with your stupidity once tonight, do not push me." Sherlock growled in her ear, "Sit down."

Molly glanced up at him feeling more vulnerable than she had felt in a long time. She hated being so raw, and exposed in front of him even more so than usual. He must have noticed something in her expression because his icy glare softened, he reached behind her turning on the water for the tub, "Come on," he said gesturing to her jeans. She shook her head, hating herself as she desperately tried to keep the tears back.

"I'm sorry" Molly whispered shaking, her entire body seemed to be betraying her and she couldn't get her mind to calm down, everything just kept flashing through her. She knew she needed to get dried off but it just seemed too much at moment, the idea of being naked in front of Sherlock Holmes. Not that she hadn't fantasied about this almost every night since she met him but somehow she never imagined herself having a panic attack, not exactly the sexy times she had been picturing.

He rolled his eyes at her before reaching down and swiftly chucking her jeans off ignoring her feeble protests, "Sherlock-" her last attempt ignored as he picked her up carefully lowering her into the tub. As the warm water rushed over her icy skin causing it to burn, breaking some of the numbness, she screamed a low sob as everything came rushing out. Not even caring anymore if he saw or heard, Molly cried with everything in her. Letting all the past three months out, his stress, the fear, and her absolute exhaustion.

Sherlock stared at this young women who had done so much for him, he didn't understand what was happening and this was the most disturbing part for him. He could deduce Molly easily, she truly was an open book, wearing her heart on her sleeve all that. In the two minutes he had lived in her flat he deducted her entire life story. An only child, her mother dying young which is the reason for her lack of social graces, raised by her loving father who died of cancer two years ago. Study hard to be pathologist because she could be a Doctor without having to be around people, hated confrontation, and desperately needed to believe in fairy tales. Molly was in fact the very definition of sentiment.

Sherlock gazed at Molly as she cried, her entire body heaving with sobs. He swallowed against the unexpected lump in his throat. He knew Molly had been under stress since his fake suicide but he didn't realize how hard things were getting for her. She had tried to talk to him last week about her new boss since Mike retired but he had been so focused on bringing down the web he deemed it unimportant, asking her to limit her conversation to things which would be useful on the case, if not could she please talk to Toby instead. Not even caring she put on a fake smile as she stuttered, "Sure, sorry" before hurrying off.

He shook his head angrily as he yanked off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. He had deduced everything about Molly Hooper except the most important thing. She was breaking.

Sherlock climbed into the tub settling in behind her, pulling until her back rested against his chest, he wrapped one arm around her stomach and the other over her shoulders laying his hand on her chest, "Molly, Molly," He said calmly, "I need you to breath."

Molly shook her head, "I can't" she cried.

"Yes, you can. Concentrate," He told her, "Feel my chest moving, focus on me. Focus on my voice, Molly" Sherlock started moving his hand in a soothing circle on her chest, "In and out, and in and out. Good, take another deep breath…Yes." As he could feel her heartbeat coming back down, he started telling her every mundane thing he could think of, facts, or odd behaviors he had noticed about Toby, "I believe I will need to run an experiment on felines" He murmured. "Yesterday when I touched his stomach he made a pleasing noise but today he tried to swipe me. Most irrational. After all it was the same-"

"You will not do experiments on my cat, Sherlock." Molly interrupted.

He smiled inwardly relieved that she sounded better, "Very well, No experiments. At least nothing chemically speaking." Molly chuckled softly, "fair enough."

She let out a shaky breathe before rolling her head to look at him shyly, "I'm sorry."

Sherlock grabbed her hand, playing with her fingers for a minute before answering, "Are you going to tell me what happened today, Molly?"  
"It was nothing Sherlock," She answered shakily, "I think I was overtired. I am fine now."

Molly could feel his burning gaze on her, she blushed as for the first time she realized their circumstances. They were spooning in the bathtub, she was practically stark naked (with her knickers wet they didn't exactly cover anything) while Sherlock was still completely dressed.

As she started to get up, his grip around her waist tightened, "Stay," He demanded climbing out. "I will go change and make some tea while we will talk,"

"Sherlock-"  
"We both know I will find out one way or another, Molly" He interrupted, "So get warmed up. I will see you in the kitchen." Sherlock gave her a piercing gaze, Molly knew it was pointless to argue. She had no doubt Sherlock would burst into her room and stare at her until he had deduced everything McRoss had said to her today. Maybe if she gave him some facts he would be satisfied and not delve too far into it. She sighed with a smile, "Honey with-"

"Yes, Yes I know. Honey with too much milk," Sherlock called over his shoulder as he stalked off."

Molly shook herself feeling slightly embarrassed but better than she had in a while. She didn't really even mind that Sherlock had been there to see her breakdown. She honestly did not know if she would have been able to get back into control without him. As she shakily stood up grabbing a towel around herself, Molly realized how weak she felt. Similar to how she felt after a bout with the flu. She made her way into the bedroom, noticing that there was a pile of clothes laying on her bed, a pair of thick pajama pants and soft red uni sweater… Expect they were not hers." She frowned setting them aside, grabbing the nightclothes she wore last night when his deep baritone rang out through the flat, "Just put them on, Molly. They are warmer than anything you own."

Molly chewed on her bottom lip as she gazed at the clothes, it seemed so…intimate to wear Sherlock's things. Except they did look really warm, and soft finally with a shrug she yanked them on feeling cozy and comfortable for the first time in long time. She brushed the tangles out of her hair making her way into the kitchen, noticing Sherlock had changed into similar pants with a dressing gown thrown over him.

He glanced up his eyes drinking in the sight of Molly in his clothes, the pants were too big for her and she had to hold them up as she walked making him feel inwardly warm almost…Happy. Sherlock frowned at the notion but he couldn't help noticing the creamy white shoulder peeking out from his sweatshirt. He cleared his throat banishing those thoughts to his mind palace. He would explore those later.

"Thanks," She said gratefully as he handed her a cup, she took a long swallow giving an appreciative moan, "Perfect. How did you know I like it so strong but creamy-"

"Molly, please," Sherlock interrupted annoyed.  
Molly blushed, "yes, of course."

They stood there for few minutes in comfortable silence, she stared at him his gaze focusing on the living room wall, she took in his strength. He may not show it normally but he would be there for here. She suddenly felt completely safe… protected in way she had never felt before. Not even when her life had been stable and normal. Molly knew he would take this night onto himself for her, "How much do you want?" She finally asked quietly.

"All of it," He said simply taking a sip of his tea.

She nodded taking a seat into one of her bar chairs, "Day from hell. Do you know what time I got home last night?" Molly asked curiously.

Sherlock frowned, "No."

"About eleven, the new administer of the lab Dr. McRoss couldn't find some paperwork that I finished two weeks ago, and demanded I re-do them before I leave. Plus every- Well it doesn't matter why but I also had to be in at six this morning." She trailed off as his eyes narrowed, "Yeah," She whispered with a smile, "He has been doing that a lot,"

Molly cleared her throat, "So I have probably slept maybe four hours a night the last month or so," She gave him a grin, "For us humans it is not nearly enough," She joked pleased to see Sherlock give a small grin, "I have heard that, yes."

Molly laughed before continuing with her story, "I was… I think more tired than anything else and it just made my emotions go on overload. Then today I was looking forward to coming home but last minute he-McRoss gave me a new body to autopsy. I tried to stand up for myself," She told him earnestly, "really."

Sherlock nodded, not saying anything but his eyes drinking in everything she was saying, "but he got… nasty" Molly whispered, staring into her tea.

"Nasty?" He questioned feeling something quiver inside him, a protective feeling, and a fierce sense of no-one touching what was his.

She shook her head, really not wanting to go into specifics, not so much for Sherlock but for herself. It was bad enough hearing them but to say them especially TO Sherlock well that was just too much for anybody, "Really, Sherlock it doesn't matter."

"Molly," He demanded, his voice coming out sharper than he intended.

She cringed slightly before closing his eyes, "He told me he knew I was the head pathologist for all these years because… I had been spreading my legs for you." She said with a rush to get it over with. "In exchange you made sure I was credited for helping you with your cases but now that you're a "Fake," Molly spat out the last word with disdain, "I should be grateful I was not suspended on charges for allowing you such access on the lab except he mentioned he was going to probably suspend me anyway so it didn't matter." She shrugged, "Anyway it is fine now but I was… upset." Molly finished off quietly.

Sherlock focused all his energy on not breaking the cup in his hand, he was shaking with a rage. He had not felt like this since Moriarty had threatened John and the others. Except there was no fear, or a sense of confidence that he could protect them, he always known he could outsmart Moriarty.

Sherlock stared at her as she drank her tea giving him time to think about everything she just told him. It was one of the things he appreciated about her, he reflected. Molly seemed to understand the way his mind worked. She tried not to question him constantly or rush him when he needed to think through his puzzle. Some days he would come of his of mind palace to find a sandwich and a drink waiting for him. She would never disturb him to eat like John but always made sure it was available for him when he was ready.

Sherlock had never really cared for people. Love was a weakness as Mycroft constantly reminded him. One that made yourself vulnerable and as Moriarty had proven dangerous. Except he did care, he acknowledge. He loved John like a brother, Mrs. Hudson more like a mother to him than his own, he respected Lestrade, and Molly… Sherlock wasn't sure yet but all he knew it was taking all he had to stay in the flat, and not call Mycroft to track down this McRoss and show him what happened to people who made his pathologist cry.

Sherlock realized he had been silent a little too long, Molly was starting to fidget uncomfortably, "Did you tell him that when I get you to spread your legs for me it won't be for some damn access to the lab?" Sherlock asked taking another sip of his tea calmly.

Molly's head snapped up, "What?" She gasped blushing a deep red.

Sherlock shrugged casually, "Nothing. Just trying to ease the tension."

"Oh," Molly replied with a forced chuckle, "of course."

Sherlock turned, pouring himself another cup, "Well?"

Molly frowned confused, "well, what?'

"Well, are you going to tell me the rest or do I have to figure it out?" Sherlock demanded leaning back against the stove. His gaze boring into her.

She broke off the contact feeling uncomfortable, forcing her gaze onto her hands, "I don't know what you mean."

"Molly, while I have no doubt you were rightly upset by that bastard who running the morgue right now…Don't worry, after I call Mycroft he will be-"

"No, Sherlock" Molly said, snapping her eyes back to his, "You will not call Mycroft about this."

"Molly-"  
"I mean it, Sherlock, I don't want you to call in any favors for me. It will look suspicious if he removed from the hospital. Promise me." She demanded, a fire burning behind her eyes, "I can handle this."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding slightly, "Ah, I thought so." He muttered rolling his eyes, "You have been worrying" he spat out irritated, "about me. How dull."

Molly didn't respond.

"Really, Molly don't be stupid," Sherlock growled low, "I doubt any of his henchmen are as bad as Moriarty, I will be fine. Besides it's not like it would be any concern of yours if I get beheaded or some other dramatic ghastly thing they have planned for me if they catch me alive. Please do not bother yourself with such trivial things. Gives me a headache. So we can we call Mycroft now?"

Molly shook her head, "It's no concern of mine? No concern," She whispered, "You don't get it, do you?" She stood up stomping towards him oblivious to the fact his pants were falling down her hips, "I am TERRIFIED all the time, Sherlock." Molly cried poking him in the chest, "Do you know what it would do to me if something happened to you? It would kill me."

Sherlock stared down her, his eyes wide as he took note of her flushed skin, the way her eyes with glistening, and her entire body was vibrating with rage. He had never seen someone filled with such emotion or passion for… him. Sherlock swallowed hard, "I hardly think-"

No, Sherlock," She interrupted fiercely, "You do not get to minimize this. Every night you go out and do what you have to do. I understand. I want you too because I want you to have your life back. I want to end John's suffering but you don't know how I lay awake listening for sirens or Mycroft knocking on my door. The fear I have that John, Greg, or for crying out loud Mrs. Hudson may still be in danger. The knowledge of the only family I have left will hate me after this is done because I lied to them. Made them suffer needlessly but it is okay so long as you are safe-"Molly broke off as she started crying again but before she could move away, Sherlock grabbed her pulling her into his chest.

He held her close, feeling the trembles running through her body. Sherlock sighed, it had never occurring to him she thought John and the others would hate her for helping him but she had done it anyway. For the first time in his life he was in awe of someone else, "I'm sorry."

"No concern, Sherlock?" Molly sobbed into his chest, "I love you, and I love them. Nothing can happen to you."

He nodded, "So no Mycroft then?"  
She laughed weakly against his chest, "No Mycroft. I can handle the prick who is my boss."

Sherlock could feel his muscles tighten but he agreed, "Fine," He pulled back slightly but kept his arms around her, "

Now we have to talk about you."

Molly sniffed, wiping her eyes, "What about me?"

Sherlock stared at her, "The next time I catch you walking home by yourself at night I will handcuff you to the bed."

Molly blinked as some images raced through her brain making her feel a little warm all the sudden, "oh okay then, got it." She told him clearing her throat awkwardly.

He smiled wickedly as though he knew what she had just been thinking making her blush even deeper, "Can we go to bed now, Sherlock?" Molly inwardly groaned as more images flashed through her.

Sherlock chuckled as looked down at her, "Of course."

"Sherlock," Molly stuttered, "That's not what I meant. I just meant we should try to sleep, oh crap never mind, you know that's not what I meant!"

"Hmm, pity" Sherlock said in rare moment of teasing, his grin deepening as he noticed Molly rolling her eyes at him. He was starting to rub off on her, his smile fading slightly reflecting on everything she had said, "Molly truly though, I am-"

Molly stopped him by gently placing her fingers over his mouth, "No, Sherlock," She moved her hands to cup his face, "You do not need to apologize for anything. You didn't have a choice. The only one to blame is Moriarty and we are all just doing what we have to do. I understand and if given a choice all over again, I would make the same decision. None of this is your fault." She shrugged, "Today was just a bad day."

Sherlock unconsciously tightened his grip on her, his eyes searching her chocolate brown eyes frantically, "How can you believe in me so much?"

Molly smiled, "Because I love you,"

"Molly," He breathed tired of fighting the warmth spreading through him, he pulled her in close lowering his lips to hers. He felt her stiffen in surprise but she didn't pull back. Sherlock cautiously brought his hands down to her hips pulling her in tighter.

She melted into him, groaning in surrender, sinking her hands into his hair. Sherlock grinned against her lips before deepening the kiss. He sank his tongue deep into her mouth tasting her, she tasted like strawberries and Molly. Sherlock let out a low groan before pulling back breathlessly, resting his forehead against hers.

"Sherlock," Molly whispered, "Please don't do that"

Sherlock leaned away quickly his face turning cold, "Right, sorry" He turned to walk past his body language stiff. Molly reached out grabbing his arm, "I mean-"She closed her eyes struggling against the rush of emotions crashing over her. She had dreamed of kissing Sherlock Holmes for years, now here he was and she was stopping it.

"I am okay, I promise. You don't owe me anything especially this." She trailed off hoping he understood what she meant.

Sherlock relaxed his shoulders, "You're wrong, I do owe you. More so than I realized and I do not say," He paused uncomfortably, "thank you well but I want you to know I am deeply grateful for everything you have done."  
Molly nodded at him before walking towards her room. She knew Sherlock hated sentiment or showing emotions, she figured he would be grateful for some space. "But that is not why I kissed you." Sherlock said causing her to stop.

"What?" Molly asked feeling her heart thundering against her chest as he walked towards her slowly, "I don't understand."  
"I kissed you because I wanted to," Sherlock told her, "I seem to have developed," He paused almost confused, "feelings for you,"

"Is that bad?" Molly questioned fearfully.

"I am not sure."

"Oh," Molly felt her heart sinking, she looked away hoping he didn't see her face fall.

"I am not an easy man, Molly" Sherlock said coming up behind her, "I have never felt much need for human contact. I am married to my work and dislike sentiment, I cannot change who I am. I am hard to live with as you know but I am even harder to love."

Molly laughed bitterly, "The problem is Sherlock I already do."

"I know," He let his fingertips run along her skin on her visible shoulder causing her to shiver, "While I usually find these things a sign of weakness, I can't deny I like seeing you in my clothes," Sherlock leaned down low placing a gentle kiss on her pulse point, "Or the way you tremble when I touch you." He wrapped his long arms around her middle, "I want you Molly Hooper," He whispered darkly, "Not out of gratitude or pity but because I need you. I want to feel your skin against mine." Sherlock grinned wickedly as Molly's knees buckled slightly, her head falling back against his chest, "Sherlock," She gasped.

"I want you, Molly," He whispered again placing a kiss into her neck, "I don't know if I can be what you need but I am willing to try… for you."

Sherlock waited as Molly absorbed everything he said, "You're wrong, you know," She finally stated turning around in his arms but not pulling away, "I have never wanted you to change." Molly rose up on her tiptoes kissing him gently, "If you change then you wouldn't be Sherlock which is the only thing I have ever wanted," She smiled, "Or needed."

The next thing she knew Sherlock was kissing her. Really kissing her, his tongue deep and powerful, almost consuming her mouth. Molly could feel her skin burn as his fingers traced the skin on her hips. She groaned into his mouth feeling her legs tremble, "Sherlock," she gasped but she was cut off as he scooped her up carrying her off towards the bedroom. As he lay her down on the bed, Molly felt like she was in a dream. Sherlock laying his body over hers, his piercing gaze on her as he carefully undressed her, for the first time in her life feeling beautiful.

He peeled away all her layers in the dark room, kissing every inch of her revealed skin. His fingers stroking her as gently as his violin. Molly reached down to touch him but he stopped her, "No," Sherlock whispered brushing back her hair, "tonight is about you. About what you deserve."

Molly shook her head kissing him softly, "No, Sherlock I don't want it to be about me." She took his hand laying it on her heart, "I want it to be about YOU and me."

Sherlock smiled feeling normal for the first time in his life, his mind wasn't racing and his body wasn't itching with restless energy. He was just a man with a woman who had captured him. Mousy, romantic, ordinary Molly Hooper who had always seemed so normal had managed to get inside him and break down the walls he had spent his lifetime building. He still didn't know how to say everything he was thinking so he leaned back down kissing her, trying to show her everything he was feeling.

For the rest of the night, no words were spoken. Everything which should have been said years ago being communicated between lips, caresses, and two souls becoming one.

* * *

Six Months later

Molly rolled her neck as she finished up a long day at the lab. She really hated paperwork, it was so tedious and for some reason made her more tired than standing on her feet doing an autopsy. She glanced at the clock smiling when she realized she could go home soon. She hoped Sherlock remembered to call in take- away. Molly beamed feeling a warmth in her as she thought of the extraordinary man she was able to call hers. Not to say everything was perfect. Sherlock was still Sherlock, he could still be mean and insensitive but at the times when he would snap at her, he would come to her at night and hold her close. Kissing her deeply and apologizing, knowing it was okay. True to her word Molly had never tried to get him to change or demand expectations from him. Both accepting who the other one was.

Sherlock would still be gone for days sometimes trying to end the network and Molly lay awake at night praying he would be safe, unable to sleep without his arms around her. Sherlock for his part did a better job of keeping her up to date the best he could. He refused to tell her everything for her own safety but if he had to be gone for weeks, he would make sure he got a message to her every few days letting her know he was safe.

Molly shook herself out of her thoughts, if she wanted to leave on time she better go. Dr. McRoss still had this nasty habit of coming right before her shift ended with last minute demands. He had never went through with his threats to suspend her but would place little barbs at her whenever he could. As she was packing up, she was startled when the doors to the morgue banged opened, Molly gasped at the sense of déjà vu that she had not experienced in a year as he swept in, his blue eyes dancing excitedly, his black coat swishing behind him like a cape, "Sherlock," She cried, "What are you doing? What if someone sees-? Molly was cut silent as his lips came crashing down onto hers.

His kiss was almost frantic, he pulled back his grip around her tight, "It is over, Molly."

Molly stared at him for a few seconds her muddled brain trying to catch up, "What-"She stopped as what he meant clicked into place. She knew he had been getting close but she didn't expect it so soon, "Are you sure?" She whispered.

He nodded, the tension he had been carrying in his eyes for a year gone, "Mycroft will be making the announcement tomorrow. I am free." Sherlock grabbed her hand, kissing her fingers, "We can go home to Baker Street."

Molly grinned pleased, she knew he loved her but a part of had been secretly worried he might want things to go back to normal once he returned but the fact he wanted her to come with to Baker Street eased away any fear she had been harboring. "Oh, Sherlock," She cried throwing herself into his arms, "I'm so glad." Molly could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Sherlock held her tight until she stopped trembling. He finally pulled back kissing her temple, "I am on my way to see John but I wanted to tell you first."  
Molly nodded catching the slight fear in his eyes at the mention of John, she touched his cheek, "Want me to go with you?"  
He shook his head, "No, I think it's best if I go alone."  
She nodded kissing him softly. As Sherlock turned to go Dr. McRoss burst into the lab, "Dr. Hooper I need-" He broke off noticing Sherlock, "Who the hell is this?' He snarled.

"Ahh, Dr. McRoss I presume," Sherlock said coldly, "Good, I was hoping you would be here."

Before McRoss could respond Sherlock threw a punch square into his jaw knocking him into the ground. As he lay there groaning, Sherlock flicked his collar up on his coat, "I do believe Doctor you will find an email stating that your employment at St. Barts is no longer required."

He turned to find Molly gaping at him, "He made you cry," Sherlock stated before stepping over McRoss and heading for the door, "See you at home."

Molly shook her head as Dr. McRoss staggered to his feet, "Love you, Sherlock."

Without even bother to slow down Sherlock called over his shoulder, "Love you too," before swooping out dramatically.

Molly let out a laugh, yes she loved him and no she would never ask him to change. After all there is only one Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**That's it! Hope you enjoyed, this was my first time writing into Sherlolly world so hopefully it worked because I enjoyed writing them. Let me know what Y'all think!**


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